


Hun Blood

by MissieMoose



Category: Mulan (1998)
Genre: Drabble, Gen, Historical Inaccuracy, Short Story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-09 17:25:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11673720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissieMoose/pseuds/MissieMoose
Summary: An anon on Tumblr requested I write a drabble with Shan Yu and my Mulan OC, Zhu, sooo I wrote Shan Yu finding and basically adopting Zhu. Not canon to the fanfic featuring Zhu.





	Hun Blood

**Author's Note:**

> Shan Zhu is my old Mulan OC I made when I was 8 -aka, 19 years ago. She used to be basically a white European with a modern white name, but I've revamped her out of spite of a rude anon. Anyway. Hope ya'll enjoy this drabble~

“Shan Yu, the scouts are back.”

Looking up from where he sat, Shan Yu squinted against the growing sunlight. Two horses and their riders were trotting towards the encampment. Though he couldn’t yet see their faces, he knew they must have been tired. He had sent them out at noon the previous day.

If they had done their job well, he would let them get some well-deserved rest. If not? Then they would be tending to the whole camp’s horses until they could no longer stand from the exhaustion.

Rising to his feet, he made his way past tents and horses. When he reached the edge of the camp, so too did the riders. He stood still and stoic, saying nothing until Bleda and Mundzuc had dismounted.

“Did you find any weak areas along the city’s perimeter?” he questioned.

“Only one,” Bleda replied. “But we needn’t worry about any sort of resistance. We’ll be able to walk in through the front gate.”

Shan Yu looked to Mundzuc, his brow rising ever so slightly.

“Most of the city has been left dead or dying by sickness,” he answered. “What little defense they have left has been severely weakened.”

Scratching his chin, Shan Yu thought for a moment. “Were you able to see what sort of illness?” Though he wanted to sack the city for all it was worth, he knew better than to subject his men to a possible plague.

He was surprised when Mundzuc and Bleda grinned maliciously. “Horse flu,” they said in unison. “Even the surrounding farms have been hit by the sickness,” Bleda added.

A wicked grin came to Shan Yu’s lips. “Well then, it’d be a shame to let all their money go to waste, now wouldn’t it?”

 

* * *

 

 

Bleda had been right. They were able to walk through the gate, unopposed by any soldiers.

The air smelled like rancid meat and excrement. Bodies littered the streets, most of them bloated and grotesque to look at. Some were missing chunks of flesh and muscle -food for the animals.

Though he was used to such smells thanks to his many battles, Shan Yu wore a scarf over the lower half of his face. It had been rubbed down with licorice to lessen the stench of the bodies.

“We should burn this place when we’re done here,” Edeco scoffed, pulling his scarf closer to his face. “Otherwise, we’ll be able to smell it from ten miles away.”

“What good would it do?” Mundzuc questioned, tying his hair back to keep it from touching any of the bodies when they began looting. “The city is already dead and it’s not by our hands. This won’t strike any fear into the emperor.”

“He won’t know that it was sickness that killed the city,” Bleda countered, “unless they sent one of their own to get help from another city. Even then, the messengers will more than likely die before they reach their destination.”

“That’s what happens when you risk living outside the Wall,” Shan Yu said, stepping over a body of what had once been a young man. “Loot the city. I’ll decide what to do with it _after_ we’ve got all their food and treasure.”

Wordlessly, his men went off in different directions to do as ordered.

Shan Yu didn’t bother looking through the houses on either side of the street. He would let his men handle the petty treasures. He, however, made his way towards the largest building: The baron’s home.

Drawing his sword just in case of there being one healthy person left, he kicked open the doors to the house. His brow rose as he heard a muffled shriek from somewhere towards the back of the house.

‘A woman,’ he thought. ‘Probably the baron’s wife or one of his spoiled daughters and no doubt covered in fine jewelry while reeking of perfume.’ For now, though, he ignored the woman.

His sword still drawn, he walked through the house, taking note of the bits and pieces of art that hung on the walls. Delicate pieces -too delicate to take back to his army. They would get ruined or broken in no time. As he stepped into more private rooms, ones where the family didn’t have to worry about being seen by the public, he started to find better items. Small, bronze sculptures; coins haphazardly tossed onto tables; heavily embroidered silken pillows…Now he was getting to the _good_ stuff.

But something felt off -like he was being watched. His eyes narrowing, he spun around only to find no one there. Scoffing at his own paranoia, he turned back around and once more started looking for anything of value. He did his best to ignore the lingering feeling of some unknown entity watching his every move; perhaps there _was_ someone watching him from another room.

If they were, he’d gouge their eyes out.

He started to gather up what he deemed valuable and carried it back to the front of the house. Leaving the items in a pile, he made many trips throughout the house until the pile reached his waist -and he hadn’t even reached the bedrooms yet!

Knowing that that was where the best treasure was hidden, he finally made his way to where the shriek had come from. The first bedroom yielded no people, but plenty of exquisite jewelry made of gold and jade as well as more silk pillows and blankets. The second room came with a surprise: The dead bodies of an elderly man and woman in the bed.

‘Freshly dead,’ he thought, using his sword to lift the man’s hand. He let it drop back onto the bed. ‘Not even ten minutes has passed for the man. He still has his color…Judging by the smell, though, he no longer has his bowels.” He glanced at the woman. Her skin was nearly translucent and her lips tinged blue. He poked her foot with his sword; it didn’t move. “The woman’s been gone for more than an hour.’

He scowled at that; it meant less treasure for him. Perhaps it had been the woman’s death wail he had heard earlier? No. No, the sound he had heard was youthful and healthy.

Shan Yu turned away from the bodies, finally sheathing his sword. He started rummaging through drawers and trunks, seeking out more jewelry and more money. And then something made him stop in his tracks.

“No!” The voice was tiny and defiant. “No touch!”

Turning, he found a child -barely four years of age- standing in the doorway. The child was glaring up at him with a frown. How hadn’t he heard the child approach? Children were clumsy and were loud. This one, though? Silent.

His amusement at the situation quickly faded and he frowned: The child didn’t have the pale, soft skin of the rest of the townsfolk. Their skin was darker, earthier.

The skin of a Hun.

Seconds later, the child was scooped up by a young woman; their mother, perhaps? She froze upon seeing the massive form of Shan Yu. He watched with joy as her eyes filled with terror and her mouth opened in a silent scream. She stumbled backwards, clutching the child to her breast in a protective fashion as she fell to the floor. There was a thud as her head hit either the wall or the floor -he wasn’t sure.

Shan Yu stepped into the hall. The woman was trying to get to her feet, but she kept tripping over the hem of her dress. It was almost pitiful watching her. Before she could fall again, he grabbed the back of her dress and lifted her into the air. Still, she held the child protectively, trying to wriggle out of his grip.

Tilting his head with slight interest on his face, he looked at the child. “Are you the mother? Or perhaps someone who took pity on a motherless whelp?”

“I am her blood mother,” the woman said, her voice shaking, but full of defiance.

“A Chinese noblewoman with a Hunnic brat.” He almost laughed. “I see I’m not the first Hun to pay this city a visit, then.”

“Her father may have been a Hun, but he was _nothing_ like you!” she snapped. “ _She_ is nothing like you!”

His brow rose and, again, he found himself almost ready to laugh. “She has _Hun_ blood in her veins. The blood of warriors. Of conquerors. If you think your pitifully languid ‘noble’ blood will turn her into a well-behaved courtesan for some perfumed lord, you’re _wrong_.” Reaching over, he pried the girl from her mother’s grip. Both of them cried out, the girl trying to reach out for her mother as Shan Yu dropped her to the ground.

“Give her back!” she half screamed, half begged. “Please! Give me my daughter!”

Drawing his sword, Shan Yu barely flinched as the woman screamed. But he didn’t harm the child. No. Instead, he tucked her under his arm and pointed his blade at her mother.

“If you do as I say, I will let you live. If you do as I say _without_ any further acts of defiance, I’ll let you live _and_ keep my men away from you.”

Tears streamed down her face and her jaw shook terribly, but the woman remained silent as she glared up at Shan Yu.

“Good girl,” he mockingly praised. “Now, my men and I are going to take all the food and treasure we can carry. Then, we’re going to burn this city to the ground. You, on the other hand, are going to find some bread and some water and the fastest horse in this city. You will ride to the imperial city and you will give the emperor a message for me.”

She spoke through clenched teeth. “What is the message?”

“‘Shan Yu sends his regards’,” he told her, a prideful grin on his lips. Looking down at the child, his brow rose. “What is her name?”

The woman said nothing.

With a flick of his wrist, he left a long cut along her cheek. “I said, _what is her name_?”

“Zhu,” she hissed, pressing her sleeve against the wound. “What are you going to do with her? Are you going to give her back to me?”

At that, he let out a hearty, dark laugh. “Give her _back_ to you?” he repeated with a cackle. Shifting the child, he let her fall a few inches before snatching the back of her shirt and lifting her up to his eye level. She kicked at him and tried to hit him as she yelled at the top of her lungs. “She’s got Hun blood in her, alright. She’d make a fierce warrior once grown.” Once more tucking the squirming child under his arm, he turned his back on the woman.

“You will leave in an hour,” he told her. “ _If_ you survive the journey, I suggest starting a new family. You’re never going to see your daughter again. Or, maybe you will someday, when my army is larger and I burn the imperial city to the ground.”


End file.
